You’d think a simple fisherman, minding his own business and bothering no one without cause, would lead a danger free existence. But storms at sea can appear unannounced, from unlikely directions, bringing threats and consequences. Our drama all started on a stormy Saturday morning, fishing for octopus, squid and shrimp just off the point of Anogia. The clouds looked angry, and the wind swirling, but there was no thunder in the skies, so we pressed on. Our catch that morning was light, but steady. Rain came and went in a series of small squalls. We were fishing just north of Chania village, and we could barely make out the historic lighthouse on his northern shore. It was shortly after we dropped our third trawl that we hit a snag, causing the old boat to pitch and yaw, the engine to groan and whine, and the propellers to throw up a cloud of sea churn and smoke. Sebastian jumped to the wheel and threw the engine into neutral, then turned to look down at me with distress, waiting anxiously for me to volunteer a fix, since that was my job. I grabbed my mask, snorkel and fins and fell overboard to investigate. The propellers and net had unsettled the sea bottom, making clear vision difficult. I felt my way down the net until I located the source of the problem. Despite what it may seem, I’m not a big believer in the supernatural, or the Calvinist’s creed that most men are doomed, despite all efforts to do the right thing. No, having seen the terrors and heartbreaks that life can deliver up close. I’ve always tried to focus on what was 30 feet in front of me, and not dwell on regrets. Fate only exists for those who win the lottery; the rest is just statistics. As I pulled at the tangled ball of net to start my extrication, I saw the problem, a stack of old urns the size of a Volkswagen. I was so surprised that I almost forgot I needed air. I made my way up to the surface for a breath and looked at Sebastian like I’d seen a ghost.